


Parallel Structure

by aderyn



Series: Compounds or Stars [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b, Gen, Molly's metaphors, St. Barts, beautiful isn't it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 00:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aderyn/pseuds/aderyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you going to sleep here, then? “ John says, leaning on his arms.  Bart’s glowers and hums around them, in the lab where they met, the lab where they’ll part. “Shall I make you up a bed?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel Structure

_“Twinning is one of the more difficult aspects of crystallographic analysis to deal with.”—Ferencz, Ferencz, Hamar and Lichtenberger, Whistler Phenomena: Short Impulse Propagation_

 

“Are you going to sleep here, then? “ John says, leaning on his arms.  Barts glowers and hums around them, in the lab where they met, the lab where they’ll part. “Shall I make you up a bed?”

There’s a twitch at the corner of Sherlock’s mouth.

“What do you see, John?”  he says, and John puts his eye to the ocular and observes the twinned crystalline structures, dark, glittering, a whole forest of them.  ( _The Vauxhall arches_ , he thinks.)

“Beautiful,” he says.

“Difficult, “says Sherlock.

***

Molly puts her eye to the lens too, but not for too long.  With them here, in the hush, with the dead so close and their twinned breath, she feels strung between planets, between orbits, between foliage and star.  It must be almost dawn by now. She didn’t think she had poetics in her—but of course, she does.

***

“I don’t know,” John says.  He’s doesn’t know what Sherlock has just asked him to see.  There was a blind alley and a flickering blade and now there’s the sofa and he’s simmering; he’s drawn; his breath precipitates in the quiet air.  Sherlock edges the curtain back.  221B quickens and resolves and forms itself around them, nucleate and still.  Sherlock, his forearms draped in wool, unfolds from the window and carries John his bed.

 


End file.
